3. Caden
Caden
“Please never let me die with my cock out,” I muttered, kneeling to check the pulse at Isaac’s neck—a pointless thing to do, as it was clear from his mottled skin that he was dead.
A sharp whistle, and I turned to find Langdon leaning against the wall. “I thought his junk would be bigger,” he signed, his hands moving so fast they were almost a blur. “At least yours is impressive.”
I shot him a look, which got me a grin in return.
“I bet the coroner would take pictures, overwhelmed with its greatness.”
“I’m going to break your hands.”
Langdon let out a chuckle, but it came out a strange scratchy sound due to his damaged vocal cords. “You know what killed him?” he went on, utterly unfazed by my threat.
“How the fuck am I supposed to know? Do I look like I have a medical degree?”
“Nah, you’re too thick.”
I flipped him my middle finger before returning my attention to the dead footman. He was simply a runner and meant little in the grand scheme of things. But it was inconvenient, especially considering he’d called me only an hour or so ago. And now he was dead.
My phone vibrated in my back pocket, and reaching for it I glanced at the contact before I immediately silenced it.
*Missed call from Father*
Fucking hell. Could my evening get any worse?
*Missed call from Father*
Pocketing my phone I leaned closer to Isaac, frowning at the way the light settled over his lips. I brushed my thumb across them before lifting it up, finding glitter. What the fuck?
“He could be into makeup?” Langdon signed when he caught my eye. “I bet he’d look fabulous all done up.”
“He wasn’t alone.” I’d already clocked the open champagne bottle and the single glass. It was an expensive bottle, too much money to drink alone in an executive suite.
Langdon rolled his eyes, reaching into his pocket for his golden lighter. The flame burst into life before being extinguished with a familiar and repetitive click-snap-click.
“You good to sort out the clean-up while I deal with the staff?”
Langdon looked over at me, his light-brown eyes flickering like candlelight. A look I knew all too well.
“I don’t think Bas would appreciate the unwanted attention that would come with burning down an entire hotel,” I commented, watching Langdon pout a little.
His hair was a dark blond that complimented his naturally golden skin.
Then there were his burns, which darkened around his throat and sunk beneath his T-shirt in great sweeps.
Langdon had spent years hiding his scars, but recently he’d been feeding on the discomfort it provoked.
People found it terrifying, which, in our line of work, was an advantage.
“You’re both boring,” he signed, shooting me a sarcastic salute before he began to type frantically on his phone, darker brows pulled together in concentration.
*Missed call from Father*
Leaving Langdon to deal with Isaac’s sudden, and in no way suspicious, demise, I exited the hotel room and made my way to the lift.
I ignored the worried glances of the other guests, keeping my eyes straight as I entered and clicked the button to the ground floor.
It wasn’t a surprise when the older couple decided to wait for the next one.
Adjusting the sleeves of my jacket I sucked in a breath, letting it out in a long exhale once I reached the right floor. The lift doors opened with a whispered hiss, and I stepped out, much to the alarm of the staff.
Normally, I wouldn’t have been cause for concern.
I was a large guy at six foot four, but not particularly threatening unless I wanted to be.
Plus, this was an upmarket hotel that had nothing to do with the Underworld in which I was part of.
The problem was the mask. It covered my jaw all the way to my nose, leaving only my eyes free.
It was a statement more than a way to conceal my face, a visual representation of my cousin, Sebastian—AKA the Beast.
I incited enough fear on my own amongst the Underworld, probably because I was infamous for my love of blunt, heavy objects, but I could never get the same reaction as Sebastian, which had always been the point.
To the world, Langdon and I were the Beast’s enforcers.
You knew you’d fucked up if we turned up at your door, but you knew you were dead if Sebastian appeared in his skull mask.
In reality, there was no strict hierarchy between us.
The three of us operated as equals, each bringing something vital to the table.
Sebastian as the face, the threat, and the man who ran Thorns.
I handled the product, and Langdon dealt with everything in between.
It had worked for as long as we’d controlled the cocaine market across Europe, continuing to expand.
But since Sebastian had married his wife Arabella last year, some intellectually challenged people seemed to believe our empire was now an easy target.
So, as a statement, Langdon and I started wearing identical masks.
“Evening,” I greeted the receptionist, who looked like he was seconds away from pissing himself. “You have a guest in room five-zero-one-two. I need the CCTV footage of the hallway outside the room, and the lift from the time of his arrival until now.”
“I-I’m sorry, but we can’t …”
I opened my jacket, subtly showing my gun as I reached for the clip of cash. I tossed it on the counter, meeting the man’s widened eyes.
“I’ll deal with this,” came another voice, and I turned to find a pompous older man in a tailored suit. “How can I help you, sir?”
“By giving me what I asked.” I cocked my head, waiting for him to argue. But unlike the receptionist, he didn’t seem to react in such a pathetic way. He either was used to abrasive guests, or maybe this hotel wasn’t completed untouched by the Underworld like I’d first thought.
“Of course. Please, if you’d accompany me over here.”
I swept out my arm, forcing him to go first. He took me behind the desk, to the side where there were several screens and a bored-looking security guard.
He jumped to his feet when I appeared, and the manager immediately entered his vacated seat.
After a few clicks I watched Isaac walk hand-in-hand with a mystery blonde, her head always angled slightly away from the cameras, as if she knew exactly where they were.
It was less than thirty minutes before she reappeared again, the time stamp not long after he’d attempted to call me.
But this time she was in a little bit of a hurry and made a mistake, lifting her face in the lift for a fraction of a second. Just long enough for me to catch her profile.
“Is there anything else you need?” the manager asked, but I barely spared him a look. Because I knew exactly who the mystery woman was, her face burning behind my fucking eyelids.
What the fuck was the Mistress of Whispers doing in a hotel room with one of my men?